


Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Post-Battle Recovery, and some very hot soup, fleurentia ahoy, racy conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 19:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13910430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: When the Tenebraean Prince and the Royal Advisor find themselves thrust together in battle, their scathing anger gives way to something quite different from what either of them expect.





	Sugar and Spice and All Things Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leiden_potato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiden_potato/gifts).



> A VERY belated Valentines drabble-that-turned-into-significantly-more-than-a-drabble for leiden_potato :D
> 
> Enjoy your Fleurentia, my dear!

 

The air glistened with the fallout of a thousand golden sparks. Remnant strips of metal and machinery lay about in disarray, and in the cracks and the corners, small fires burned themselves out into smoulders. The fighting had lasted hours, and now the Prince and the Advisor sat at a makeshift campsite, trying to regain their strength before the turmoil started once again. Prince, yes, Ignis thought, but the man beside him was not Ignis’s prince. It was decidedly aggravating, too, when the man was hell-bent on peppering their sparse conversation with little digs.

            ‘Don’t call me “boy” when we’re more or less the same age,’ Ignis said softly.

            ‘I’m six years your senior,’ Ravus replied, and his tone was as clipped as his posture was stiff.

            Ignis propped his glasses further up on his nose and watched the white-haired man who was — heavens forbid — six years his senior, didn’t he know, crouch on the dry carbon earth and brush dust off his pearl-shaded overcoat.

            ‘Six years means little in an age where the Empire casts its shadow over decades. As well you know.’

            ‘You know nothing of the Empire. And I’ll call you _boy_ if I so wish. Being hand to an incompetent princeling is not enough to impress me.’

            ‘As if I’m trying to.’

            The sparks came to settle. Ravus glowered. Ignis simmered away as quietly as the soup he was stirring.

            He picked up the spices. Ravus was still glowering. Another moment’s consideration, and Ignis threw an extra dash of chilli into the soup. Well, extra was putting it rather lightly. It was an unholy amount of chilli powder. His years of training under a diplomatic school had rendered his stomach like iron and his palate strong enough to withstand even the most pungent of spices — for how could one be a Royal Advisor with any degree of efficacy if one could not handle foreign cuisine with utter aplomb? — and he doubted Ravus had received the same level of training under the fist of the Empire.

            Perhaps an extra hot chilli soup would still the dear Tenebraean prince’s tongue. At least, for a little while.

            He barely spoke at all as he finished up the food preparations, and as he dished out the meal, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sound of Ravus’s stomach growling uncomfortably.

            ‘So you do have human parts, still,’ Ignis murmured, and his snide joke was not lost on the man, who accepted the soup with his Magitek prosthetic extended.

            ‘Shut up.’

            ‘I mean no disrespect.’

            ‘Of course you don’t.’

            Something about the ridiculousness of their current situation made Ignis start to laugh, and then, to his surprise, Ravus laughed too. They stopped after only a few seconds, both a little embarrassed, a little caught out by their rare moment of weakness.

            Then, the soup. The attack happened with a whimper and not a bang, a slow increase in spice level that hit at full force only after numerous spoonfuls had already been taken. First, a sniff. Then a watering of the eyes. A look of confusion, a twitch of the facial muscles, and then the rapid, ferocious breathing that meant the heat had increased.

            ‘Astrals, what the — what the hell’d you put in this?’ Ravus swallowed far too fast, clapping a hand to his mouth and smacking his lips in distress.

            Ignis merely smiled serenely, swallowing his own mouthful without breaking face. Ravus flustered around for some water, and Ignis let him find it on his own. It was quite entertaining to watch.

            ‘It’s a Leiden speciality,’ he said. ‘Prairie style soup. With no dearth of chilli peppers.’

            Ravus swore.

            ‘It’s… a bit hot for my taste.’

            Ignis did not say _learn how to handle it. Like me._ He didn’t need to. Everything he wanted to say was spoken in the stare he reserved for the pale man sitting before him, skin now flushed pink with the spice overload.

            Now the moment of weakness returned as they both began to laugh again. Perhaps it was the oddity of the entire situation, getting to them. The whole escapade was ridiculous, and they had been thrust together with little ceremony and little say in the matter.

            It would be a lie to say Ignis wasn’t growing quite fond of the ill-mannered prince. They both found themselves in similar situations, serving different nations with the same level of determination, in order to protect the ones they loved. He was actually finding he had … quite a bit of respect for Ravus.

            Funny, how things worked out.

            And now he felt a little guilty about the soup.

            Ravus stopped sniggering and finished the rest of the water. ‘If you want more, you’ll have to head back to the stockpile yourself,’ he muttered.

            Now Ignis’s smile was softer. ‘If that’s the case, so be it.’

            They settled into something akin to a comfortable silence after that. Ignis took the time to clean his shoes, and Ravus removed his overcoat to rub at his shoulders.

            It was only when Ravus removed the Magitek prosthetic from his shoulder fitting that Ignis realised just how much the battle had affected him. The tendons around the joint were pulled taut as bowstrings, while the muscles seemed all bunched up and solid as rock. It looked painful. It looked uncomfortable, and must be in no small part due to the extra effort of maintaining the prosthetic. If that stayed the way it was, Ravus would be at a disadvantage when the troops returned.

            ‘Perhaps you should allow me to relieve some of that tension. I have been trained in massage, you know.’

            Ravus’s reply was acid sharp. ‘I think not.’

            ‘Come now—’

            ‘Ugh, don’t talk like that, you sound like Ardyn.’

            Ignis doubted he could draw his mouth into any worse of a grimace. But, more telling was the look of distaste Ravus was currently shooting him. It seemed that, between them, there was no love lost for the dear old Chancellor.

            ‘It seems we’ve found something we can both agree on, then.’

            ‘And what is that?’

            ‘That the Imperial Chancellor is a complete and utter prick.’

            No sooner had the curse left his mouth than Ravus choked out a laugh.

            ‘It’s … strange, hearing you swear.’

            ‘I can say more. Did you miss all the times I shouted _bloody hell_ out on the battlefield, there?’

            ‘I think I was a bit too preoccupied with the task at hand,’ Ravus shot back, and the sharpness was back in his voice, but there, below the surface, was still the wry camaraderie. It was … actually quite cute. ‘And yes. Seems we agree.’

            The idea Ignis was getting was partly in response to the growing heat in his groin, and partly in response to the increasing feeling he had that the two of them had a … well, a spark of sorts, going.

            ‘I really do think we should work out that tension, though. I am rather talented.’ Ignis gave him a pointed look, one that indicated without a shadow of a doubt the kind of tension he was thinking of. And it caught Ravus off-guard, that much was clear by the sudden parting of his lips, the innocent look that crossed his face that seemed so out of place there. Then those white-as-snow eyebrows furrowed. It seemed fury was an acceptable fallback when he felt out of control, and that only made Ignis wonder — if he felt out of control, did that mean he was… keen on the idea?

            ‘Is this the sort of thing you engage in with you dear Chosen King, now?’

            A flash of anger crossed Ignis’s face. He was all heated and riled up, yes, but that didn’t mean Ravus could trash talk Noctis like that. ‘Don’t you dare insult the Crown Prince!’

            ‘I shall insult him all I like.’

            ‘You know, you really are insufferable—’

            Ravus silenced him with a sudden kiss. It was rushed enough that their lips were smashed together with an urgency that made Ignis wonder if another Magitek mech wasn’t on its way in the distance. Another second and Ignis would not have been able to look to check, because Ravus’s fervent, angry movements knocked his glasses clean off his face. The frustration, the stress from the fighting, all of it reached a peak and Ignis kissed back just as hard. It was almost enough to make him laugh once again, because it felt a little like a contest. One would push and the other would push back. Ever evenly matched.

            Then the heat in his veins grew too strong and his hands joined in the action, spreading their way over Ravus’s half-undressed upper body, feeling every knot of muscle and sinew and pressing, stroking, as if appraising the man’s strength. As for Ravus, he had his one hand at the side of Ignis’s face, holding him like a prize while his mouth stayed claiming, claiming and possessing every inch of flesh it could find.

            The hardness in Ignis’s pants only increased when Ravus let his hand slip down to Ignis’s throat. A subtle threat, and a tantalising one. Ignis smirked into the next kiss, and dared him to grip harder. Then, hands spread across Ravus shoulder blades, he pulled the taller man in, falling back against the floor.

            Well, Ignis had learned one thing. Ravus could handle the heat after all.


End file.
